


Lies My Parents Told

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian and mickey talk about their mothers, Ian talks to his family members about monica, Ian thinks about monica, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Post-Season/Series 10, Sad Ian Gallagher, Thanksgiving, mentions of monica's suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: Ian remembers Monica.Or Mickey and Ian celebrate Thanksgiving.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993684
Comments: 16
Kudos: 189





	Lies My Parents Told

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! If they did, we’d have a whole show of Gallavich.
> 
> Author’s Note: I got really excited after seeing the new trailer and I decided I couldn’t wait to post this on Thursday, so I posted early. It was all done except for some minor edits, so I figured now was as good a time to post this. Plus it's close enough to Thanksgiving. 
> 
> This can be read as a stand alone one shot or like the Halloween one shot (Sneaky Tricks and Snickers Treats) it can be read before the last chapter of Never Tear Us Apart. Again it's in the same universe, which is basically post season 10. There are some mentions to past events in Never Tear Us Apart, but you don't need to have read it to understand the one shot. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this little fic and who read and commented and left kudos on Sneaky Tricks and Snickers Treats.
> 
> Warning: A lot of domestic bitches sweetness and mentions of Monica's attempted suicide.

The grocery store was crazy at this time of year. Which basically meant that it was a good thing two ex-cons did the shopping for Thanksgiving. Although, in the Gallagher household, they really could’ve sent any of them - except Liam and Franny - to the store to get the items on the shopping list. 

Technically, they all had the title of jailbirds. 

Ian loved Mickey for a lot of reasons, but intimidating soccer moms and frazzled working dads was one of his favorites. Especially at the grocery store around the holidays when people got  _ very _ pushy and unbearable. 

Ian remembered when he was little and Fiona used to take them shopping, which always turned into a minor disaster. It would be 15 year old Fiona and a bunch of kids running around the store, which frequently resulted in one of them - usually Carl or Lip - being told off by an adult. Followed by Fiona getting a ‘talking to’ for being the oldest one and therefore, the most responsible. Ian always hated how the adults would tell her to ‘control those kids. It’s not that hard.’ He hated the look of failure in his sister’s eyes when they left. 

But mostly, he hated how Frank and Monica acted when they came back - if they were even around to begin with. They’d lash out at them if they’d forgotten something or spent too much money on food when they could’ve bought drugs. 

One year during Thanksgiving shopping, a particularly frustrating incident occurred. Carl had stabbed a frozen turkey with a switchblade (where he got the switchblade was still a mystery) and a soccer mom flipped out on him. Said things like ‘delusional’, ‘homicidal,’ and ‘a danger to society.’ Apparently, it was a tofu turkey and it was the last one. 

Ian still remembered how angry he’d been with the woman and frustrated with how it was handled. 

It didn’t help that when they got home, Monica and Frank had gotten into a huge fight about one of them smoking the last of the crack they had stolen from a dealer and had trashed the house.

When he and Mickey had kids, he knew neither of them would be that polite if some Barbie or Ken wannabe tried to tell them off for something their children did the way Fiona had to contend with for years. Well, he’d try to be nice (or at least mediate), but Mickey...he’d be  _ Mickey Milkovich _ . 

Ian loved that about him - how he always stood up for the people he loved. Even if he claimed  _ not  _ to love them like he did with most of the Gallaghers, he still spoke out when something fucked up was happening. Like when Franny was having issues at her daycare or when Liam was being treated poorly by a teacher (which they had to deal with two weeks ago). 

But Ian knew, now that they were  _ together forever,  _ his husband was softer than he let on. (Ian had known this for years though. It was old news to pretty much everyone but Liam who didn’t remember anything from the first time Mickey was around.) 

Ian got to see the best of his husband just last week. Mickey had helped Liam with a diorama and let Franny paint his toenails. Not to mention, he was helping Carl learn all the different types of guns and the right bullets for each one so he can pass some test at the police academy. 

So when Thanksgiving grocery shopping came up, Ian knew that it was going to come down to him and Mickey. Maybe Debbie would be good to send to the store, but she was so wrapped up in Sandy and her new job that getting her to do anything these days was like pulling teeth. 

Shopping hadn’t been as bad as it had in previous years. Not when he had Mickey with him. So far, his husband had scared a soccer mom away from the last pie crust. Fought a working dad for the last carton of eggs. And he’d even swiped the last container of pumpkin pie spice from the shelf before a grandma took it. Not to mention he had a knack for maneuvering easily around large groups of people. Ian had to struggle to push the cart behind him to keep up.

He attributed it to his smaller frame and Ian made a mental note to tease him for that when they got home. 

“Are we done yet?” Mickey whined, sounding for all the world like a petulant child.

Ian laughed softly and reached over to grasp his left hand that dangled over the cart. The hardness of his ring pressed into Ian’s skin. A constant reminder that they were still together and here nearly a year after their wedding. He knew he was looking at Mickey with what he called ‘heart eyes,’ but he really didn’t give a shit. Not when Mickey looked at him like that. Like he was the best person in the world. 

“We just have to grab cranberry sauce.”

Mickey huffed a little, but nodded toward the aisle behind them. “Think it's that way.”

They slowly moved the cart to avoid a mom and her five kids that were taking up the middle of the aisle and then went back the way they came. 

It was as they were passing a display of emerald frosted chocolate covered pretzels in the shape of Christmas trees when Ian stopped. A long ago memory floated to the surface as his eyes landed on the red and green boxes.

Long ago when Monica was still around - most of the time - and had a modicum of energy to go to the store, she’d buy a box of those chocolate covered Christmas trees for Thanksgiving. She liked how they helped to add a little Christmas spirit even though they still had a month to the holiday. She said they needed to  _ prepare for Christmas _ , which she claimed was her  _ favorite _ holiday. She used to say that she liked how excited everyone got around it; it matched her own enthusiasm for life. 

Of course their Christmas was always fucked with both Frank and Monica passed out on the couch from too many drugs and too much alcohol. Ian remembered a year when they’d had to call the ambulance cause Frank had stopped breathing. 

“What’s that?” Mickey asked, grabbing the green and red box out of Ian’s hand.

He hadn’t even realized he’d picked them up.

“You want these?” Mickey asked.

The look he was giving Ian was all raised eyebrows. Like he already somehow knew that the box was more than just a sweet-craving. 

If he was being honest with himself, as Thanksgiving slowly rolled toward them, he couldn’t help but think of Monica. It happened every year since the year she had - she had tried to… But Ian didn’t like thinking about that year. Last year they had been in prison still and while the ‘feast’ had been sublimely shitty, it had been easier to pretend Monica wasn’t looming over the holiday. 

_ Probably helped that I was away from the house. _

Ian cleared his throat and then shrugged, “Monica used to buy them. Said it prepared us for getting into the Christmas spirit.”

Ian’s eyes were trained on the box in his husband’s hands, but he could still feel the shift within Mickey. When he glanced up, he was staring right on him. An unreadable look in his eyes as he studied him. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his teeth immediately gnawing on the skin of his bottom lip. Slowly, he lowered them into the cart.

“Come on, we still have to stop at the liquor store. Kev asked us to pick up a bottle of Jamison and Sandy wanted a box of wine,” Mickey said, wrapping a hand around his arm to get him to start moving again. 

Ian nodded and started to push the cart down the aisle. They passed the canned vegetables and fruits. Ian could’ve picked up a can of peaches or corn and been reminded of Monica too. When they were out of food or down to the scraps in the house, she’d generally produce a can of vegetables and they’d all share it. But when he looked at those items, he wasn’t reminded of Monica’s dopey smile and bright eyes. Unlike when he looked at the chocolate covered Christmas trees that reminded him of how much fun he thought his mother was when he was young.

The previously joyful mood he had been in earlier began to slide out of his body as thoughts of Monica circled his brain. Specifically, the last Thanksgiving he’d had with his mother, which had been the year where she went to the hospital. 

The year Mickey had been in juvie the second time.

The year Lip had lashed out at everyone trying to help him because he thought Karen was carrying his baby.

He remembered sitting with her earlier in the day, trying to get her to eat something as she was in the midst of a depressive episode. He remembered feeling sorry for her; wondering what she was going through. It was almost laughable now that he knew  _ exactly  _ how she felt at the time.

The image of Monica slitting her wrists and convulsing on the kitchen floor still haunted him. 

Ian could hear Mickey talking, but he wasn’t registering what he was saying. It wasn’t until Mickey was holding up two different types of cranberry sauce did he finally come back to the present. A little furrow had appeared between Mickey’s expressive eyebrows and Ian realized that he’d probably asked him the same question a few times.

“What?”

“I said which cranberry sauce should we get? I never eat this shit.”

Ian shrugged, “Debs is the only one who eats it.”

Mickey huffed and looked at the prices for each of them. Choosing the cheaper option, he threw it into the cart and then directed them to the overflowing lines at checkout. 

It took them 20 minutes to get through the line and another 10 minutes to check out. They had a bunch of coupons and mostly ones and fives the family had pulled together to afford their groceries this week. 

But Ian wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on as they lifted all of their groceries in their recyclable bags out of the cart and headed toward the L. 

Seeing the chocolate covered pretzels caused something to loosen in the compartment he’d shoved all Monica-related feelings into. After the debacle of Gay Jesus, he’d tried to shovel all feelings about his mother away. He attributed a lot of what happened after she died to grief - something he’d learned from his mandatory visits to therapy in prison and now the clinic - and he really couldn’t feel regret for those events now. Not when they led him back to Mickey.

But still. 

It was the holidays. It was Thanksgiving. A holiday that was always a big deal in the 

Gallagher household. All they needed was each other, unlike Christmas or Halloween. It wasn’t about presents or trying to scrape together costumes. It was about being together and if there was anything the Gallaghers knew how to do was spend time together. Whether it was wanted or not. Partying was just in their blood. Even when Ian was little, Thanksgiving was a big deal. Probably because so many homeless shelters gave away free food and they could eat without - Monica or Frank - lifting a finger. 

“...So do you think Fiona is just going to take over the kitchen when we go home? Cause I’m not cooking all this fucking food for like 50 people,” Mickey rambled.

He was leading the way through the cramped car to two seats in the way back that were vacated. Mickey slid in and Ian followed setting the bags between their legs.

Ian forced a smile and said, “Fiona knows how to cook for a lot of people. I’m sure you’ll be delegated to doing like two things: chopping vegetables and setting a timer.”

Mickey scoffed, “I already said I wanted to make the mashed potatoes. That’s the most important part of the meal.”

“No way, it’s all about the pies.”

“You and your sweet tooth,” Mickey said playfully.

Ian grinned and moved his hand from where it was tangled in the handles of the recycle bags to rest on Mickey’s thigh. Mickey’s smaller hand covered his own.

“You glad that Fiona came home to visit?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, I was starting to wonder if she’d ever come back.”

Mickey was silent as the L rumbled along on the tracks back toward their neighborhood. Ian stared out the window watching Chicago pass them by.

“You know, we could always go down to Florida and visit her,” Mickey said quietly.

Ian shrugged, “yeah, I guess.” He paused as he debated whether he should say what 

was on his mind, “the last few years...our relationship has been...weird.”

“Yeah, cause my relationship with Mandy is so much better,” Mickey scoffed.

“We could do a tour of visiting distant sisters.”

Mickey laughed and ducked his head. Ian couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“You wanna tell me what’s the deal with the chocolate pretzels?” Mickey asked after a few minutes of silence.

Ian glanced up at him and saw that he was fingering the edges of the red and green box. 

“I told you, Monica used to buy them. I haven’t - I haven’t really seen them for awhile. Figured it would be a nice tribute or whatever.”

Mickey took a deep breath in, looked to be about to say something, but whatever steam he was gathering dispersed and he closed his mouth. Ian waited for him to voice his thoughts, but instead he gave him a tight lipped smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“It’s nothing, man. Let’s just enjoy the holidays.”

Ian gave him a suspicious look, but didn’t push it. Their stop was coming up soon and they still had a few blocks to walk with these heavy bags. He didn’t have any desire to start a long conversation when they needed to save their energy to get home.

* * *

The house the last few days had been engulfed in a bubble of excitement. Ian knew it wasn’t just the holidays either. Fiona had been home since Sunday and it was like the whole house had lit up. Ian didn’t realize how much her presence was missed until she came back. It was her first time visiting and he could already tell that she was thinking of coming back for good. 

Their long midnight talk the other night had been the clue-in that she wasn’t exactly happy living in Florida. Apparently, things with Steve were going exactly the way she’d always thought they would go if she ever seriously put real energy into him. Without the distraction of taking care of all of them or scraping by, she was realizing the pros and cons of Steve. When Lip had asked if he was going to come up to Chicago, she’d stiffened, stuttered out some half-lies, and lit up a cigarette to change the subject.

He couldn’t blame her. Sometimes you just need some time away to realize where your real home is. 

He could tell that Liam was happy to have her home too. The same could be said for Carl and Debbie. It was like having their mom around again. And for Ian and Lip, it was nice to have their sister home. Even Frank, who had stopped by the day before to try and maneuver an invitation to the celebration had seemed a little more joyous at having her home. It was like in the early days of Mandy being around when she popped back into their lives.

Like everything was how it should be. 

“How was the store?” Fiona asked. She was already in the kitchen defrosting the turkey when they got home. V and Kev had grabbed a 20 pound turkey from some guy at the bar who was selling them out of his truck. 

“Chaotic. Almost didn’t get pie crust,” Mickey said setting the bags on the floor

in the kitchen. 

Fiona helped them start putting away the groceries. She paused when she got to the red and green box and looked at Ian in surprise. 

“Monica?”

He shrugged in response and took the box away from her to put in the cupboard.

“I haven’t had them in awhile,” he said.

He could feel Fiona’s eyes on him, but he continued to put the groceries away intent on ignoring her. He didn’t want to talk about Monica with her. He already knew her opinion on their mother and he just wanted to enjoy their time together before she left again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mickey had paused in placing the potatoes in a basket on the counter. When he turned to look at his husband, he was already back to helping to put everything away.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she said finally.

Ian turned to look at her to tell her that it wasn’t a big deal, but the nostalgia reflected in her eyes made him stop.

“Just figured it was - I don’t know. It’s our first Thanksgiving all together in awhile,” he said almost sheepishly.

She smiled slightly and nodded, “yeah, it is. And your first Thanksgiving as newlyweds.” 

Ian looked toward Mickey who was rolling his eyes, but his lips were tilted up and a rosiness had begun to spread across his cheeks. 

Everything was ‘their first’ as newlyweds and as annoying as Ian should find it, he knew that like Mickey, the phrase never got old. 

_ Husbands. _

_ Newlyweds. _

_ First. _

Ian’s stomach flipped every time he heard any of those words. He knew Mickey would call him a ‘dork’ for being so mushy in front of other people, but behind closed doors, he’d get many appreciative kisses.

Lip, Tami, and Fred came into the kitchen and interrupted whatever melancholic path they were all about to head down.

“Can we do anything to help?” Tami asked.

Fiona smiled and shook her head, “I think Mickey and I got it. But I’d love to hold Baby Fred.” She scooped him out of Lip’s hands and began to coo at him. Ian flashed back to years ago when Fiona would do the same thing with Liam. 

_ It was just like old times. _

He met Lip’s eyes and he could see his brother was thinking the same thing.

* * *

It was only Wednesday, but they had a lot of food to cook for Thanksgiving. Fiona had suggested making most of the food early so that tomorrow they could eat whenever they wanted. After hearing about Mickey’s culinary skills, she’s recruited him to help along with Debbie, Sandy, and Liam. 

Mandy was watching Franny, which basically meant they were upstairs playing dress up or coloring.

It was nice to see her taking charge again and Ian took the opportunity to be a little more hands-off than he had these past few months. 

As everyone got to cooking, he decided to go for a jog with Carl who had been trying to get in better shape for the academy. He couldn’t sit still long enough to do anything of value and he couldn’t shake the images of Monica. He needed a release from his inexplicable restlessness. Not even early morning sex with Mickey was enough to shake the talons of melancholia that were creeping its into his head. A run would probably be just what he needed to brush off the strange forlornness he was entrenched in.

“Ready to have your ass handed to you?” Carl asked as they stretched on the porch.

Ian guffawed and lightly punched him in his stomach catching him off guard. “Like you could even keep up.”

“I’ve been running more!” Carl protested.

Ian smirked in response as they left the porch and began to walk on the sidewalk to warm up their legs.

“It’s nice having Fiona back, right?” Carl asked as they began to pick up the pace.

Ian nodded, “yeah, it’s like we’re--”

“A real family again?” Carl suggested quietly.

Ian glanced at him and saw that he was focused straight ahead.

“Do you remember when Monica used to buy those chocolate covered Christmas pretzel things for Thanksgiving?”

In confusion, Carl asked, “What?”

“Maybe you were too young…”

“I remember when Fiona tried to make a pie for Thanksgiving the year after Monica left. And I remember when Monica…all that blood. Also, Fiona making everyone watch some dumb kids show for Thanksgiving.”

“Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, that. There was no blood or gore or sex,” Carl said shaking his head a little. As if watching something without violence and sex was unimaginable.

Ian laughed lightly. As they began to jog a bit faster, their conversation died off. Generally, Ian tried to get in about five miles in an hour, but when Carl was with him, he had to go a bit slower. 

As they made their way around the block and then toward one of the parks, Ian contemplated how few memories Carl, and probably Debbie - most definitely Liam - had of Monica. It was strange to remember all these different things from around the holidays that his siblings had no recollection of. It was kinda lonely to remember something no one else did.

He was reminded once again of Monica’s funeral and how all of his siblings just brushed her death off like it was no big deal.

How he was the only one who was struggling with what happened to her. But that didn’t seem to be anything new. He always thought that he was the only one who saw Monica for who she really was - the only one who was close to her. It probably had something to do with not actually being Frank’s kid. And then the bipolar shit. 

He wanted to ask Lip and Fiona what they remembered, but Monica had always been a touchy subject with them. 

Did anyone miss her? Or was it just him?

They were on their way back to the house when Carl started to slow down and turned his jog into a walk. Ian slowed down too to match his strides. He could continue running - he wanted to continue running - but he didn’t want to leave Carl behind.

“Last year Thanksgiving was pretty shitty,” Carl said quietly. “You were gone. Fiona was gone. I like that we’re all here.”

Ian smiled softly and rubbed Carl’s head to annoy him. “Get used to us being around. Mickey and I have no intention of going anywhere.”

Carl shook him off and gave him a little shove. “Whatever. At least you bought us all earplugs. I was getting tired of hearing the two of you banging all night long.”

“Hey, you have your own room now thanks to us.”

“Would’ve had my own room without you guys too.”

Ian rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the grin from his face. He could spot the house in the distance. He shoved at Carl laughing when he nearly tripped.

“I’ll race you.” 

He heard Carl’s shouts of protest and the sound of him trying to catch up as they both ran back to the house.

* * *

After taking a shower, Ian popped his head in the kitchen to see if he could offer some help. 

“No, you’ll get in the way,” Mickey grunted as he lifted the turkey out of the oven for Fiona to check it.

Ian smirked as he watched his husband’s biceps bulge at lifting the turkey and the little black apron he’d given him for his birthday that said ‘Do I Look Like A Fucking People Person?’ giving the middle finger. 

“Is that anyway to speak to your husband?” Ian responded.

“It’s still weird to hear you guys refer to each other as ‘husband,’” Fiona said as she took the thermometer out of the turkey to check how much longer it needed to cook.

“In the beginning, it was cute. But now it’s just annoying,” Debbie said looking up from where she was cutting sweet potatoes.

“You should’ve seen how they looked at each other at the wedding. Nearly threw up the delicious cake you conned out of that bakery,” Sandy added.

Ian rolled his eyes and turned to Fiona who was laughing. Mickey had an identical look of annoyance on his face too.

“If you were actually around, you would’ve seen the fucking amazing shit I put together,” Mickey bragged.

Ian cleared his throat pointedly and Mickey begrudgingly added, “Ian helped too.”

“I chose the music,” Ian said grinning. “And the cake.”

“But I chose the cake topper,” Mickey said pointedly.

“And what a cake topper it was!” Lip chimed in coming in from outside. He came in with Fred strapped to his chest and Tami coming in behind him. They had a few bags, so Ian figured they had left to go shopping.

“Did you get the--”

“The table is in Kev’s truck along with the chairs. We need help unloading them,” Lip said unclipping Fred from the carrier and placing him in the playpen. 

Ian stood up and yelled for Carl to come help. The three of them went out to Kev’s truck and began to carry in the extra chairs to sit everyone at the table. Carrying in the table was a bit harder, but once they got it through the doorway, they stored it under the stairs until it was time to start setting up. Tami disappeared into the kitchen to help cook the meal, which left the three brothers to pop open a beer - or a nonalcoholic one in Lip’s case - and settle on the couch.

“Kinda weird to have all of us here for Thanksgiving,” Lip mused.

“Yeah, Ian and I were talking about that earlier,” Carl said letting out a burp and turning on the TV.

“Oh yeah? What shitshow Thanksgiving were you recalling?” Lip teased.

Ian gave him a sour look.

“Do you remember the holidays with Frank and Monica?”

Lip shifted beside him, “I remember how fucked up they used to get.”

“What about when Monica would get Christmas shit for Thanksgiving?”

Lip frowned and glanced over at Carl who was flipping through Netflix.

“What?” Lip asked.

“You know those chocolate covered pretzels? The green ones shaped like Christmas trees? She used to buy them cause she wanted us to get into the Christmas spirit or whatever.”

Lip gave him a blank look. 

His stomach sank as he realized that his brother had no idea what he was talking about. Lip was supposed to remember the same things he did about their childhood. 

He’d anticipated that Lip would know, he was older and had more memories from back then. More than Carl, Liam, or Debbie. 

But the impassive expression on his face told Ian all he needed to know. Even if Lip and Fiona had a different relationship with Monica than he had, he thought his older siblings would remember. They were supposed to know what he was talking about. They were supposed to understand that it was just that time of year when shit reminded you of family. More than any other time.

Most of the other 10 months out of the year, Ian hardly thought about Monica at all. He was busy dealing with taking care of the house, taking care of Mickey, making money to survive. But as the weather grew colder and images of turkeys, pilgrims, and Native Americans cropped up, he couldn’t shake the ghost of Monica. He knew that it would only get worse as Christmas creeped closer. He’d even contemplated upping his medication dosage to counteract the natural holiday depression.

“I remember that Thanksgiving when Monica found the money we’d been saving for food and blew it all on coke for her and Frank. We had nothing to eat for dinner and they completely left us to fend for ourselves. I think Carl was still in diapers,” Lip mused.

“Nevermind.”

“Also that one Christmas when Debbie had chicken pox and Monica and Frank hadn’t been home in like two weeks. Fiona had to give Debbie an oatmeal bath, which was the last food we had in the house so we had nothing to eat for breakfast.”

“I get it. Sorry I brought it up,” Ian muttered.

Lip frowned, “what made you think of it?”

“At the store, I saw--” Ian began, but was cut off by Fred starting to cry. Lip immediately got up and went over toward the playpen to pick him up. A minute later Tami came in and they began to bicker. Ian watched them for a moment and then got up and went into the kitchen. 

He sat down at the table next to Mickey who was joking with Sandy and Debbie. Mickey didn’t even look at him, but he moved his hand from off the table and rested it on Ian’s thigh. He didn’t even know that’s what he needed until he felt the heavy, warm weight of Mickey.

* * *

As night fell, they decided to order pizza since no one wanted to cook dinner. They’d been cooking all day for tomorrow and everyone was tired. Fiona called up their favorite pizza spot, texted Kev and V to head over and began to blast the music. It turned into a Gallagher party before everyone knew what hit them. Since it was warmer than it should be for November in Chicago, the party spilled out into the backyard. 

“I saw those chocolate covered Christmas pretzels in the cupboard,” Debbie said, shifting Franny from one hip to another. Ian was sitting on the backyard stairs watching as Sandy, Mandy, and Mickey tried to out drink one another. They were taking turns shotgunning beers. Ian had already had his two beers and was feeling particularly sloshed. He was leaning against the railing and knew that if he stayed out here much longer Mickey was going to need to carry him to bed.

“You probably don’t remember either,” Ian muttered glancing over at her. 

He watched as she shifted Franny to her front and tentatively sat down next to him. “I remember the pretzels. I don’t remember why she bought them so early, but I remember eating them.”

He stared at her for a long moment and she offered him a small smile. 

“Do you think about her?” she asked.

He shrugged and maybe told a white lie, “haven’t thought about her since the wedding.”

“But you miss her.”

Ian didn’t want to answer. When he looked over at Debbie and saw her giving him that particular Debbie-look that meant she could see right through his bullshit, he knew she knew.

“When Monica died, I thought that it would be easy letting her go, you know? I barely knew her. I just knew that she was this force to be reckoned with. I knew that she left me a lot and she wasn’t there for me like other moms I knew. But when she was around...it was nice. She was fun. She let me do stuff Fiona wouldn’t. Still, it was hard. Whether I wanted her around or not, I never really knew what was the better option. 

And then Fiona left and I kinda figured it would be the same thing. That it would be hard, but not  _ that _ hard. I thought about her every day though. Things were - so weird between us for a long time, but when she was gone, I just...it was more than my sister leaving to go start her own life. Didn’t realize how much I’d actually miss her till she was gone.” Debbie said quietly, then paused, “family’s hard.”

Ian nodded, “it’s nice having Fiona back.”

“Yeah.”

Franny let out a little sleepy sound against Debbie and they both looked down at her. 

“The thing is I didn’t really grow up with Monica. I didn’t learn anything from her. But Fiona...I learned how to be a mom from her.” Debbie was quiet as she looked down at her sleeping child. 

Ian watched his sister and niece as he took in her words. He sighed and glanced over at Mickey who was laughing loudly with Sandy.

“I need to go to bed,” he said.

“Want me to get Mickey?”

Ian shook his head and on unsteady feet he got up and headed into the house. When he stepped into the inside, he was unsurprised to find Fiona and Lip sitting at the table, sharing a cigarette. It was like he’d walked back to three years ago. 

“How many beers did you have?” Lip asked laughing as Ian nearly tripped over a stray chair.

“Fuck off,” Ian mumbled stealing his cigarette and taking a hit of it before stumbling up the stairs.

He heard Fiona ask something about if they should go get Mickey, but he ignored them. He needed the world to stop spinning and to lay down right now. 

* * *

“Ian, are you okay?”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Sleepily, his eyes blinked open. Bright light was shining into his and Mickey’s room. 

_ Shit, what time is it? _

He looked over his shoulder to see Mickey kneeling on the bed, one hand on his shoulder paused mid-shake.

“What?” Ian rasped. He turned over fully and cuddled back into the pillow. He grabbed Mickey’s hand and wrapped his larger one around it, pulling him onto the bed. He turned his face up toward Mickey and waited for him to kiss him, but it never came. He could feel his lip jetting out into a pout.

“Ian, are you okay?” Mickey repeated.

Ian yawned and closed his eyes to fall back to bed.

“Is it - do I need to call the clinic?” 

That made Ian’s eyes blink open. Any remnants of sleep that lingered began to dissolve as he locked eyes with his husband.

“The clinic?” Ian asked, furrowing his brow.

“It’s 2pm.”

As he became a bit more aware of what was going on, Ian realized he could hear notes of panic in Mickey’s tone. He released his hand and rubbed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Mickey had sat on his side of the bed and was worrying his lower lip as he studied him.

“I’m fine,” Ian said looking into his eyes to convey how ‘fine’ he was.

Mickey gave him a weak smile and turned so his legs were on the mattress instead of hanging over the edge. He was facing Ian head on and now he could see the nervousness in his eyes. He gave him a weak smile to try and alleviate his worry. Mickey reached over and rested a hand on the side of his head.

“You’re fine?”

“I had too much to drink last night. I’m just tired,” Ian said.

Mickey continued to study him and after several minutes of silence, Ian sighed and reached out a hand toward the bedside table.

“Hand me the water and my meds, Mick.”

Mickey did as Ian requested and handed him the bottle of water and meds. Then he got up and left the room only to return minutes later with a Gatorade in hand. Ian tried to ignore the way that Mickey was steadily watching him take the meds.

“See, I’m not going to go crazy,” Ian tried to joke.

“Don’t say that, man,” Mickey muttered.

Ian sat up a little and leaned against the wall. He reached his hands out toward Mickey and he climbed back into bed with him. He wrapped his arms around Mickey and he settled against his chest. They sat there squished together, intertwined around each other. Mickey’s heat was warming him, bringing a calm that he didn’t realize that he needed. The remains of fuzziness in his brain dissipated at the very real weight of Mickey clinging to him.

Could they stay like this forever?

“You’re not crazy,” Mickey added.

Ian laughed darkly.

“What’s up?” Mickey asked when Ian’s laughter died down.

“Nothing.”

“Carl and Peppermint Patty mentioned you’ve been talking about Monica.”

Ian shifted underneath Mickey and he tried to figure out how to bring up what had been bothering him since he’d spotted those fucking chocolate covered Christmas tree pretzels in the store.

But the thing was, this funky mood hadn’t exactly begun when they were grocery shopping. It had probably started the moment they had entered November and the countdown to Thanksgiving had begun. 

Not only was Thanksgiving the holiday where Monica tried to slice her wrists open, but it was also the last holiday they’d had with her before she disappeared once again from their lives. Before that it was familiar to ignore all the shitty holiday memories because Fiona did her best to make it a good holiday season. But the year after Monica had sliced and diced, Lip was gone at college. He’d run away to ‘join the army.’ And then there was the shit with Liam… That happened way later, but still.

It all lingered like a cobweb of disasters.

Ian honestly couldn’t really remember the last holiday season that had almost been boring. There’d been so much that happened from the time they’d found Monica on the kitchen floor all the way to now. Between years of depression, Mickey getting locked up, his Gay Jesus stint, and then when  _ he _ went to prison, there was never a dull moment. The holidays in recent years had been rough. It was almost unfair that the first time in years that they’d been all together, Ian had to obsess about Monica and how he couldn’t stop thinking about her with the holidays upon them. He should be enjoying his first holiday season with Mickey as his husband. He should be laughing with his siblings. He should be savoring these new traditions.

He struggled to grasp onto the anger he felt was rightfully his at wanting to spend his first holiday season with his husband and family celebrating, but all he could focus on was how much he missed his deceased mother. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he downplayed.

“Ian.”

Ian tightened his hold on Mickey and ducked his head into Mickey’s hair to breathe him in. He really didn’t want to talk about this right now. He just wanted to get through the day. 

_ Wait _ \-  _ fuck, do I need to go to the clinic?  _

_ Are my meds fucking up? _

Flashes of Monica bleeding out on the kitchen floor fluttered through his head. All that fucking blood. Fiona squeezing him as they both froze in the kitchen. Steve trying to stop the bleeding. She was so fucking pale…

“...what’s wrong? You’re squeezing me,” Mickey was saying.

“Sorry.”

“Ian, I’m wor--”

“Monica.”

“What?”

“Thanksgiving, it’s when Monica tried to--” Ian made a slicing motion across his wrists and Mickey’s eyes widened.

Nodding, Ian settled back against the wall. He had the strong desire to burrow under the covers and pull Mickey with him. He just wanted to lay in bed with his husband. Maybe Fiona would bring them their dinner up here? He breathed Mickey’s scent in again and his body relaxed at the familiarity. 

Mickey didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He shifted around a little and snuggled his head into Ian’s chest. Ian kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes taking a moment to bask in the comfort of his husband.

“Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?” 

Ian smiled at the very uncomfortable tone in Mickey’s voice. He knew they weren’t really the type to talk about their feelings. It’s just not who they were, but he didn’t really think anyone else would get it. No one else seemed to miss her. And while Mickey didn’t actually know her, he loved Ian and maybe that’s all he needed right now. Someone who loved him and was patient enough to listen to him ramble about his dead mother.

“I just miss her, I guess. I mean, she’s probably rated as the world’s worst mother, but...you know. She’s - she was my mom.”

“What was she like?”

The slight curve of Ian’s lips became a rictus of wistfulness. He ran his fingers through Mickey’s dark hair. He wished he could see his face, but he had a feeling that it was better this way. It was easier. 

“What was  _ your _ mom like?” Ian volleyed back softly.

Mickey huffed and shifted against him. He tilted his head up to look at Ian and gave him a look that very plainly said ‘we’re talking about you, not me.’

“She was fun when we were little. Always wanted to go out and do everything. It wasn’t until we were older that I realized she was…”

“Not the perfect mom?” Mickey supplied.

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a few minutes. The noises from downstairs wafted up to them. Fiona’s voice could be heard giving out directions to finish up the meal. Ian knew that eventually someone would be sent to find them and tell them to come down to dinner. But for a few more minutes, he just wanted to lie here with Mickey. 

He always enjoyed the little bubble of contentment that surrounded them when they were like this. It made him think that all the shit they went through was worth it as long as they ended up here. In their bed, in their house,  _ together _ . He just wanted to be here with Mickey - in whatever capacity.

“You know, my mom overdosed when I was like eight? She didn’t die, but - I was the one to find her,” Mickey said quietly. “Had to call the ambulance and everything. Mandy was so scared. She wouldn’t stop crying.”

Ian shifted a little further down the wall, eager to see Mickey’s face. But he was now turned away from him, his face buried in his chest as he talked about his childhood.

Ian knew that Mickey had lost his mom when he was young, but they’d never really talked about her. He’d tried to get him to open up once or twice, but all Mickey had revealed was that her name was Laura and she was dead. He’d gotten more from Mandy, but it was more out of spite and hatred than anything. 

It wasn’t the first time Ian thought about how similar his and Mickey’s lives were as children. Their mothers were both addicts who left them when they were too young. Except Mickey’s mom began popping out kids at 13 and had chosen to stay with Terry for lack of anything better to come alone. Whereas Frank and Monica were just too self-centered to care about anyone but themselves. Sure, Ian sometimes thought that Frank actually loved Monica, but as he got older, he realized that Frank loved the idea of Monica more than he loved her.

He’d worried about that a lot with Mickey before the wedding. That Mickey was only in love with the idea of him - not all the versions of himself. 

The thing was as he got older he began to see things a bit clearer. Like how he wasn’t really Monica and Mickey wasn’t going to turn out like Terry. The difference between their parents and them was that they loved each other through all the good and the bad life threw at them. If Ian was really meant to be with someone who wasn’t Mickey, neither of them would’ve fought as hard as they had to come back to each other and then stay together.

Mickey was where he was meant to be.

With Ian.

Just like Ian was where he was meant to be.

With Mickey.

“Then what happened?”

Mickey shrugged, “nothing. She continued doing drugs. She was basically never around anyway. And when she was, she wasn’t really  _ here. _ ”

Ian considered asking him if he missed her, but instead, he waited for Mickey to continue on. He could tell he had more to say.

“But I do miss her. I guess. I probably miss more of the idea of having a mom more than I miss her. She wasn’t the best mom. I think once she made Mandy a cake for her birthday but that’s pretty much all I remember about her. But she was family, you know. And then one day she was just gone.”

“I miss Monica too,” Ian revealed quietly.

“I know.”

“The others…”

“They do too. Just - it’s different. Mandy wouldn’t talk about our mom for a really long time. Iggy doesn’t talk about her at all,” Mickey took a deep breath and shifted so he was looking Ian in his eyes. When Mickey’s blue eyes landed on him, he felt something settle in his house. Like the last puzzle piece clicking into place.

“I was talking to Fiona yesterday and she was telling us some story about Monica. Talking about some weird shit she used to do on Thanksgiving to get ready for Christmas. Something about chocolate pretzels that look like Christmas trees?”

Ian smiled and leaned down to kiss Mickey softly on his lips. Mickey grinned against his lips and he deepened the kiss, even though they both couldn’t contain their smiles. It was messy and there were a lot more teeth than Ian would’ve liked, but it was like a balm on an open wound. It was just what he needed.

When he pulled away, he said, “We used to call her Hurricane Monica cause she destroyed everything in her path.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Monica really loved Christmas. Sometimes I thought she was just a giant kid in an adult body. She always wanted everyone to have fun. The life of the party. I don’t know why she liked Christmas so much since she spent most of it trashed. I always thought it was cause it’s such a kid holiday. Always told us she was going to buy this and that and then nothing.”

“Fiona mentioned that once she tried to get you guys to steal a Christmas tree and decorate it for Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, she did. I was like six. Fiona was 12. Only came up to like half of the tree. It would’ve been impossible to steal that shit,” Ian said laughing.

Mickey grinned and kissed him again. Ian leaned into him soaking in Mickey’s warmth and love. Pulling away, they both grinned at each other. Ian couldn’t resist but to lean in once again and plant a kiss on his lips. 

Distantly, he heard Lip and Fiona yelling and Ian knew their little bubble of warmth and happiness had an expiration on it. The smile slowly fell off his lips and he caressed Mickey’s face.

“She was hard to live with.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think it was just her being bipolar...I think she was just lost.”

Mickey leaned in and kissed him again. 

Ian sighed into his mouth. 

The residue of stress he’d been holding onto was finally slipping from his body.

“I can relate,” Mickey muttered when they pulled away.

“Yeah,” Ian said, his mind drifting to exactly how lost he knew Monica was because he felt it too. He hadn’t in awhile, thanks to Mickey, but he’d felt it.

Just like he knew Mickey had felt lost as well. Maybe not in the same way, but he’d gone through just as much as Ian had in terms of figuring out who he was. Ian may have dealt with his mental health issues and worrying that he would destroy everything in his path. But Mickey spent years struggling with his own sexuality. Ian always had the luxury of knowing his family loved him no matter who he banged, but Mickey - he spent a lot of years completely alone wondering if anyone would ever truly love him for who he was. 

Upon that realization, Ian leaned in and pressed his lips to Mickey’s just to remind himself of how far they’d come.

Downstairs they heard the back door open and Kev’s and V’s voices, signaling that they really should get downstairs.

“You ready to go celebrate?” Mickey asked as his blue eyes searched his face.

Ian smiled and began to pull away from him. Before he got too far, Mickey leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips and then kissed the top of his head. Ian reached out to him to bring him closer, but he rolled out of his arms and stood up. 

“Come on, sleepy-face. I know that Fiona made pumpkin pie that she expects you to eat and I’m not missing my fucking mashed potatoes.”

Ian laughed and began to follow his husband out of bed. Quickly dressing, he stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth and then wrapped himself around Mickey as they went downstairs. It was probably easier to walk side by side rather than with their arms all draped around each other, but Ian didn’t care. He wanted his husband close to him, especially for their first Thanksgiving together. 

Monica’s ghost may have haunted the holiday for the last few years, but Ian was intent on changing that this year. He wanted to start new traditions. With his husband - his family. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Just some updates for future fics. I'll post my usual chapter for Chocolate on Friday. I'm also planning a few more one shots in this universe (once again can I call it a universe? it's just post season 10) throughout next month so look out for those. I had some additional ideas and I really love writing established gallavich and domestic bitches, so I figured I'd add on to Never Tear Us Apart. I'm thinking there will be an additional three one-shots.
> 
> Anyway, drop a comment if you'd like! And if you celebrate Thanksgiving, then have a safe and good one! If you don't, then also stay safe and good.


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